


Deck the Halls

by Talsi74656



Series: Talsi's Twelve Days of Ficmas [5]
Category: Star Trek Voyager
Genre: Angst, F/M, Morale Boosting, Secret Santa, christmas gifts, terrible dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 06:45:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 18,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5365319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talsi74656/pseuds/Talsi74656
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Secret Santa is set up on Voyager, all the senior staff are required to participate. But Kathryn can only think of the Christmases she is missing out on with her family.</p><p>This is the fifth story in Talsi's Twelve Days of Ficmas. Stories do not need to be read in any particular order</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. December 1st - Coffee, Black -

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lauawill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauawill/gifts), [galinaredreznikov](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=galinaredreznikov), [forever-river-song](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=forever-river-song), [oikkuileva](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=oikkuileva).



> This one was written by prompts given from multiple people. Thank you people! I hope it's not too disappointing!
> 
> Lauawill aka Joyful-voyager (on tumblr) - "The holographic mistletoe is following us" (also 'upvoted' by oikkuileva on tumblr)  
> Forever-river-song (tumblr) - 25 days of Christmas, one day per fic each with a different theme e.g. coffee, christmas cookies. (I decided one fic per day was... well, you're getting half that wish. I hope one chapter per day will suffice?)  
> galinaredreznikov (tumblr) - Neelix trying to get the crew to sing carols, particularly Tuvok and being annoyed when the Doctor kicks in. (I don't think I pulled this off very well. I wanted to do more but as it was I was running out of time. I hope this is acceptable) 
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters not mine :(
> 
> I also want to thank everyone who's leaving comments and kudos on here, VAMB, tumblr and facebook! You're giving me a huge self-esteem boost. I'm glad so many people are enjoying them, even if they're not the greatest stories.

_December 1st - Coffee, Black -_

Every inch of Voyager seemed to be filled with gaudy decorations, tinsel, mistletoe, wreathes of holly. Fake snow lined just about every window and Kathryn could _swear_ the temperature of the ship had been lowered.  
  
She wrapped her arms around herself as she stalked to the turbolift, thoroughly unimpressed by a string of coloured popcorn that had come loose from its tape, falling in front of the lift doors. Swatting it to the side she entered the lift and growled, “Bridge.”  
  
Normally she loved the festivities aboard Voyager. She loved how involved the crew became and how morale improved. This time, however, the celebrations seemed to be doing nothing more than showing her just what she was missing; her mother, her sister and someone to sit with by an open fire.  
  
Perhaps the problem was Christmas. The Janeway household had celebrated Christmas since Kathryn was a little girl. She loved the celebrations, the family, the caramel brownies and the gift-giving.  
  
Neelix had chosen Christmas as this year’s ‘major morale booster’ because a large majority of Voyager’s crew was Human; never mind the fact that ninety percent of them had never celebrated the event before. But since their most recent run-in with the Borg he thought that _now_ would be a wonderful time for a party and _now_ just happened to be _around_ Christmas.  
  
She’d been opposed from the get go, but what could she do? They entire senior-staff, with the obviously exceptions of Tuvok and Seven, had been all for the celebration.  
  
Tom began discussing his ideas immediately; a holodeck program of a ski lodge, egg-nog and fruit cake, bon-bons with silly jokes and a secret Santa open to any crew member who wanted in.  
  
The lift doors opened cutting her miserable meandering thoughts. Without uttering a word, Kathryn walked to her ready room and straight to her replicator. “Coffee, black,” she demanded.  
  
Her coffee materialised and she drank in the calming scent as much as the flavour. _This_ was her one escape aboard, the one constant companion that kept her from going completely insane.  
  
With a heavy sigh she moved to the window. The moment she’d entered the ready room her internal clock began to tick now, as it reached one the door chimed.  
  
She closed her eyes and shook her head at the predictability of her first officer. “Come,” she authorised.  
  
He waited, as he always did, for the doors to close before speaking. “Captain, is everything alright?”  
  
His concern was touching. His concern was _always_ touching and left her feeling burdensome and more alone than she ordinarily did.  
  
“I’m fine, Chakotay,” she replied. She didn’t turn from the window hoping that he might get the hint and leave her be, for now.  
  
He was more perceptive than she gave him credit for, though. He always knew when she was out of sorts, today being no exception.  
  
She heard him approach up the steps and saw his reflexion in the glass.  
  
“Talk to me, Kathryn. This isn’t like you,” he prompted.  
  
His words were like daggers to her heart. She closed her eyes in an effort to hide her anguish, her pain. But he was persistent as well as perceptive.  
  
He moved to stand beside her. “I can talk to Neelix, we can change to a different holiday,” he offered. “I’m _sure_ there’s another holiday around this time we could use.” She recalled past conversations, offhand comments about spending Christmas with her family. He proved once again just how attentive he was, just how much he cared.  
  
Kathryn studied his reflection for a moment before shaking her head. “No, the crew is excited for Christmas.”  
  
“The whole point of this was to boost morale, yours included,” he objected.  
  
“The crew’s morale is more important than mine,” she responded.  
  
He sniffed and shook his head “Since when?”  
  
“Since always, Chakotay,” that was all too true. She was the reason they were stuck out here. She didn’t deserve happiness.  
  
Her first officer gave a small, exasperated sigh. “I’m putting all of the senior-staff in for the secret Santa,” he stated.  
  
She rounded on him. “I beg your pardon!”  
  
“We’re the senior officers, we _all_ need to participate,” he told her firmly.  
  
She raised a brow, ready to object but he held up a hand to stop her. “It won’t be that bad, you may even enjoy it,” he challenged.  
  
“Fine,” she snapped. “But you’re helping me pick the gift!”  
  
He grinned lightly and she had the feeling he was mocking her. “What if you get me?”  
  
She blinked uncertainly. “Then – I’ll – _fine_.”  
  
With a small laugh he departed, leaving her to her maudlin mood.


	2. December 2nd - Spiced Leola Root Pudding -

Tom perused the list Neelix had set out, grimacing every time he came across the word leola. The word occurred _far_ too often for his liking substituting many and various other food options like ginger, peppermint, _salt_ and – food.  
  
“Well,” he began. He wanted to be delicate, but he also wanted to make sure that the Christmas buffet was at least – palatable. “I mean, if you’re going to make a ginger spice pudding I really do think you’re better off using, you know, ginger,” he attempted.  
  
“Leola root is a fantastic substitute for ginger!” Neelix exclaimed.  
  
Tom scratched his head. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “But so is ginger.”  
  
The Talaxian frowned at him.  
  
“Look, Neelix, it’s not that we don’t – love leola root,” he struggled around the words. “We all really – _appreciate_ everything leola root has done for us, but,” he frowned as he considered how to phrase what he wanted to say. “But, well,” he sighed. There was no easy way around it. “Neelix, no leola root in the Christmas banquet,” he told the chef.  
  
Neelix gave an expression akin to a wounded puppy. “But –” he tried.  
  
“No,” Tom stuck to his guns, shaking his head. “This is for the Humans,” he continued. “The Humans _expect_ Human food,” he felt a little awkward putting it like this but he’d try _anything_ to prevent that rancid tuber from contaminating their Christmas menu. “Trust me; you’re going to have many a happy customer if you stick to the original recipes.”  
  
The Talaxian’s hurt was evident and Tom felt like a monster. But the crew and by extension, Neelix, would thank him later.  
  
“What if I have a couple of leola root options?” he tested.  
  
Tom gave a small laugh. “Fine, but make sure they’re clearly labelled.”  
  
The Talaxian beamed. “I could make leola root sauce for the ham,” he said distantly.  
  
Tom sighed. “Don’t go overboard.”  
  
“And leola root skewers with Talaxian tomatoes, chicken and beets,” he continued. It was evident that he was no longer listening.  
  
With a sigh Tom left Neelix to his own devices and walked back to the table.  
  
Harry snorted. “That was a great effort,” he mocked.  
  
“Yeah,” B’Elanna agreed. “I think you really got through to him.”  
  
Tom hunched in his seat. “Well, at least we can have the party the way we want it!”


	3. December 3rd - Plomeek Soup -

“No,” Tuvok stated.  
  
“Aw come on, Tuvok,” Lieutenant Paris pleaded.  
  
The young lieutenant never ceased to amaze Tuvok with his illogic. “I will not allow an open fire in the middle of the mess hall,” he said. The matter was closed. Nothing the pilot could say would change Tuvok’s mind.  
  
“It wouldn’t be in the _middle_ ,” Lieutenant Paris attempted. He made a vague gesture toward the side of the room. “It’d be well contained,” he added as though this new piece of information would make any difference.  
  
Tuvok ignored him and sipped another spoonful of plomeek soup. The Talaxian’s recipe had vastly improved over the years, though he still added far too much salt for Tuvok’s liking.  
  
“We wouldn’t even need to keep it lit long,” Lieutenant Paris persisted. He took the seat across from Tuvok and gave a pleading smile.  
  
“Absolutely not,” Tuvok affirmed.  
  
“Come on, Tuvok, think of the morale boost it’d give,” he continued.  
  
“And what kind of morale boost would burning down half of the mess hall bring?” Tuvok turned the statement on him.  
  
Tuvok returned his focus to his meal, he only had another twenty minutes before he was due to return to duty and was not overly interested in continuing this discussion any further.  
  
Lieutenant Paris scoffed. “We’d have extinguishers at the ready. There’d be no danger to the ship.”  
  
“Absolutely not,” Tuvok stated again. His attempts at argument were like discussing emotional control with a petulant child. He _almost_ expected Mr Paris to storm off. Instead the young man huffed and remained seated, shoulders slumping.  
  
Tuvok was content with his newfound silence. He sipped another spoon of soup, returning to the report he’d been composing before the lieutenant interrupted.  
  
After a couple of minutes Paris perked in his seat again. “What about an artificial fire?” he asked.  
  
Tuvok raised a brow. “Perhaps,” he conceded. “Bring me schematics for an artificial fire and I shall examine them,” he added.  
  
Paris gave a broad smile. “Thanks, Tuvok!” he exclaimed. “You won’t regret it!”  
  
Tuvok doubted that statement, many things Tom Paris said ended up becoming rather regrettable.

***=/\=***

Tom made for the mess hall exit, excited to begin drawing up the schematics as requested, but stopped just short when he spied Naomi in the corner on her own. She sat drawing quietly on a large dark sheet of paper.  
  
She really was _quite_ the artist, for a four year old.  
  
He couldn’t help but approach to take a look and ended up taking the seat across from her.  
  
“What are you drawing?” he asked as he took the seat across the table.  
  
She glanced up with a broad grin and turned her paper to show what looked like a field of snow with Naomi, her mother and Neelix making a snowman.  
  
“Snow?” he asked.  
  
“Yes,” she responded brightly. “Mom was going to take me to see the snow on that planet three weeks ago, but then they attacked Voyager,” she pouted and slumped in her chair.  
  
“Haven’t you seen snow yet?” he asked, almost incredulous. He couldn’t believe that in her four years aboard she hadn’t visited a world with snow.  
  
She shook her head. “Aliens with snow are always mean,” she grumbled.  
  
He couldn’t help but chuckle as he thought back over the past few years. They’d had so few stops for r’n’r and he guessed they’d never really visited the colder climates on those planets. Most of the time, if the planet was inhabited their hosts would send them to resort locations. If the planet wasn’t inhabited they tended to visit beaches anyway.  
  
“I’ll tell you what,” he told her conspiratorially. “Next time we find a planet with snow B’Elanna and I will take you to visit.  
  
She positively beamed. “Really?”  
  
“Really.


	4. December 4th - Nutritional Suppliment Number Fourteen -

“Taste is irrelevant,” Seven stated.  
  
Icheb pouted. “If something fulfils our nutritional requirements _and_ is enjoyable to eat would it not be preferable to consume that particular food?” he asked.  
  
His distaste for this particular nutritional supplement had been stated on numerous occasions over the past couple of months. Seven wasn’t eager to continue this discussion again.  
  
“I would gain as much nutritional value from the dish Neelix was serving in the mess hall,” he griped.  
  
“You would not,” Seven objected. “The fat content of Neelix’ cooking far exceeds the levels recommended by the Doctor,” she argued.  
  
Icheb dripped a spoonful of his serving back into the bowl, his displeasure written plainly on his expression. “At least the flavour is – more enjoyable.”  
  
Seven raised a brow and considered him for a moment. “According to the crew Mr Neelix’ cooking is disagreeable,” she stated in counter to his argument.  
  
“ _This_ ,” Icheb motioned to his meal, “is indigestible,” he finished with a sneer.  
  
Seven glanced at her own bowl with a considerate frown. Taste _was_ irrelevant; _however_ Icheb’s statement had some validity. Nutritional supplement number fourteen was hardly her preference.  
  
“Naomi is having _pasta_ for dinner,” he commented.  
  
She ignored his statement and took another bite of the yellow mush.  
  
“Is there nothing from your world, before your assimilation that you miss consuming?” he asked with another unfavourable frown at his bowl.  
  
“No,” she answered immediately. That, however, was a lie.  
  
Seven did not approve of lying, certainly not to someone in her care. She cleared her throat attempting to ignore the churning in her gut associated with deception, but the sensation would not abate. She sighed and avoided his eye contact as she revealed, “cherry tarts.”  
  
“Cherry tarts?” he asked, the words sounding awkward as he spoke them.  
  
“My mother used to make them, they are one of the few things I remember,” she revealed.  
  
He fixed her with a curious expression, a mix of intrigue and surprise before he nodded. “Then I would like to try a – _cherry tart_ at some stage,” he said with a small smile.  
  
“Perhaps, someday,” she agreed. “But for today you must finish your meal.”


	5. December 5th - Gingerbread Cookies -

Harry accessed the secret Santa file and viewed the name he’d been allocated by the computer. Tom. He got Tom’s name.  
  
His eyes flicked to the back of the pilot’s head. Had Tom fixed it?  
  
Surely he wouldn’t do that, would he? But what were the odds?  
  
Not everyone had decided to join in. Less than half the crew, in fact, so theoretically it was possible.  
  
Tom swivelled in his chair. “I got Naomi,” he announced. He scratched his head thoughtfully and gave a small frown.  
  
Harry smirked. Ok, maybe he didn’t fix it.  
  
“Who’d you get, Harry?” Tom pressed.  
  
Harry made a vague noise as he tried to think of a legitimate reason not to tell him, without giving away that it was Tom.  
  
“Isn’t the entire point of secret Santa that it remains _secret?_ ” the commander asked with a grin.  
  
“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Tom asked. “How else am I meant to find who to swap with?” He gave a rather petulant grin which actually seemed to amuse the commander.  
  
“I do not believe that is a part of the rules,” Tuvok stated without looking up from his post.  
  
Harry couldn’t help but grin.  
  
“Well, not the official rules, but we want to make sure everyone has _fun_ now, _don’t we?_ ” the pilot gave a rather meaningful look to the commander who simply shook his head.  
  
He returned his attention to his station.  
  
Harry thought he’d dropped the topic until he cleared his throat. “I mean, what if The Doctor got B’Elanna?”  
  
“What if Seven got B’Elanna?” Harry added.  
  
Both Tom and Chakotay turned to face him before sharing a rather anxious look.  
  
Before either could respond, the turbolift doors opened and Neelix stepped out, tray in hand.  
  
“I’ve been going through some of the recipes,” he announced. “And I thought I’d bring some to the bridge for you all to try.”  
  
He offered to Tuvok, first who politely declined, before moving to the front of the bridge.  
  
“What did you make, Neelix?” Harry asked. He could smell something spicy sweet.  
  
“Gingerbread cookies,” the Talaxian responded.  
  
Tom, who had been halfway through snatching one off the tray paused and gave Neelix a suspect glare.  
  
“I stuck to the recipe you gave me,” Neelix told him.  
  
Obviously wary, but still hungry Tom, grabbed one and took a bite. He gave an appreciative nod. “These are great, Neelix.”  
  
The Talaxian preened at the compliment as he moved to the centre and offered on to the commander.  
  
Chakotay took one eagerly. “May I take another? For the captain?” he asked.  
  
“Of course,” he exclaimed.  
  
Finally he headed up to operations and held out the tray. The cookies had been cut in various shapes to celebrate the holiday season. Something that looked like Santa, if Santa were Talaxian, a reindeer with wings and leaves that he supposed were meant to be holly, among other things.  
  
Hedging his bets Harry chose a small cookie in the shape of what he _hoped_ was a stocking. “Thanks, Neelix,” he said politely. He tasted the cookie and was pleasantly surprised; he couldn’t taste even a _hint_ of leola root.  
  
With a satisfied grin the Talaxian departed leaving them to enjoy their mid-afternoon snack.

***=/\=***

Chakotay tapped the buzzer and waited a few seconds for the door to open, grinning at Kathryn as he entered the room.  
  
She glanced up giving something approaching an exasperated frown, then a relieved sigh. He knew she’d skipped lunch again, but this time decided, instead of mentioning it, to try a new tactic.  
  
“Neelix started baking, to test out recipes,” he handed her one of the cookies.  
  
She gave the biscuit a sceptical frown.  
  
“Tom said they’re quite good,” he attempted.  
  
Kathryn took the cookie in the shape of a small Christmas tree, or just a badly cut triangle and sniffed it.  
  
“Shall I try it first?” he asked with a laugh.  
  
She chuckled lightly and then nodded.  
  
Her mood certainly seemed to have improved over the past couple of days, though he could tell there was something eating at her. He hoped to figure out what was wrong, aside from Christmas, of course, but he knew that getting her to open up would be a chore in itself.  
  
He took a bite and gave an appreciative grin. “It’s actually quite good,” he told her.  
  
She still didn’t look convinced. “I feel like you’ve done this before,” she muttered before taking a tentative bite.  
  
Her smile was worth any risk of pain the cookie might have presented. “Well, that was rather unexpected.”  
  
He couldn’t help but laugh, especially when she took another bite, giving a rather delighted grin. “Join me for a drink?” she offered, motioning to the couches.  
  
Chakotay wasn’t willing to disappoint, especially given her mood of late. “Of course,” he agreed, taking his seat on the couches.  
  
She stood and ordered their drinks, handing his over before taking her seat.  
  
“If the food tastes half as good on the day maybe it won’t be so bad, after all,” she commented.  
  
“From what I hear Neelix is going all out.”  
  
She nodded and glanced into her mug before taking a drink.  
  
He didn’t want her heading into the celebrations dreading the event. He wanted her to be happy. So he decided to take a chance and push the subject, to see if he could figure out exactly where the problem lay. “Tom wanted to install a fireplace in the mess hall,” he told her with a chuckle.  
  
She gaped at him not appearing overly amused by the prospect.  
  
“Don’t worry; Tuvok shut that down rather quickly. That being said I think he’s planning something else and I haven’t figured out what, yet.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “When is he _not_ planning something?” she asked.  
  
He gave a laugh. “You have a point.”  
  
“It occurs to me that we skipped our dinner this week,” Kathryn said rather suddenly. “Join me for dinner tomorrow?”  
  
Chakotay certainly hadn’t expected the invite. She was right, though. Their last dinner together had been almost two weeks ago.  
  
He grinned and nodded. “Of course, I’m happy to cook,” he offered.  
  
She shook her head. “Oh no, you’ve cooked the past half dozen times, I think it’s my turn.”  
  
Chakotay wanted to object, but he didn’t have the heart. It wasn’t that she was a bad cook. Ok, it was that she was a bad cook. That wouldn’t be a problem if she just used the automatic settings on the replicator, but she _insisted_ that she could perfect the recipe with just a bit more heat, a little more salt or an entirely different sauce. Of course, that was what Chakotay did, but he had – a little more finesse than she, and an excellent teacher when he was young.  
  
“Ok, sounds good,” he managed. “I’ll bring the wine,” something strong, he decided, something _really_ strong.


	6. December 6th - Spinach and Fetta Cannelloni… Almost -

“Damn!” Kathryn exclaimed as she took her first bite.  
  
Chakotay had the remarkable good grace not to even grimace as he tried the cannelloni. “It’s fine,” he insisted. “Really!”  
  
She shook her head at him. “The sauce is too bitter,” she griped.  
  
“A little,” he agreed before taking another bite. “But I’ve had much worse.”  
  
She grinned at him. “Thank you, but you don’t need to lie,” she placed her cutlery beside her plate and pushed it away.  
  
“Would I lie to you?” he asked with a charismatic grin.  
  
“Absolutely!” She grabbed her drink and took a sip. “But not about anything important.”  
  
He’d thought her mood had improved until her shoulders slumped and she gave a dejected frown. “I’m sorry, Chakotay,” she said eventually. “You put so much effort into your meals, I just wanted to reciprocate.” She put her cutlery down and pushed her plate away.  
  
All things considered the meal wasn’t that bad. It was probably the best of the meals she’d attempted in some time. He had a sneaking suspicion that her melancholy had more to do with the festivities aboard Voyager than their meal.  
  
He decided to tempt fate and probe to figure out what it was about Christmas that had her so miserable. “My family never celebrated Christmas,” he attempted. His statement was obvious. Few people on Earth celebrated the holiday anymore and even fewer off world.  
  
The expression on her face told him that she’d read right through his plan. The glare she usually reserved for her worst enemies fixed upon him and he shifted uncomfortably.  
  
“I just –” he attempted to think of a way to cover himself. “I just mean, I’m not sure what to expect,” he finished.  
  
She studied him for a moment and he gave his most innocent smile. Eventually she gave a heavy and shook her head. “Christmas is something my family celebrated for as long as I can remember.” Leaning forward to take her wine glass off the table and sipped the drink thoughtfully.  
  
She’d told him as much in the past, though she’d never gone into detail with it. He knew that she, her mother, her sister and her former fiancé all treated the event with some reverence.  
  
Leaning forward in an effort to show his genuine interest, he took up his own glass. Moments like this were few and far between with her and if he could get her to open up, maybe he could help her through her issues.  
  
“It reminds me of my family, of my father and of -” Her eyes flicked away and she studied the wine in her glass.  
  
“Mark,” Chakotay finished for her.  
  
She frowned and bobbed her head to the side. “Not Mark, not exactly.”  
  
She touched the glass to her lips and took a gulp. He could almost see the barriers reasserting themselves and she removed her napkin and placed it over her plate.  
  
“Next time I’ll try to stick to the recipe,” Kathryn muttered.  
  
Chakotay sighed inwardly and took another sip of his drink.

***=/\=***

Their dinner finished early, unsurprisingly. Kathryn was reticent to speak about Christmas again and eventually became frustrated with Chakotay for pushing the subject.  
  
He could guess what she’d been implying. She missed having someone to spend Christmas with. That was dangerous territory for them, of course. There had to be something he could do to help her move past her maudlin mood. Something to prove that just because she didn’t have a romantic relationship here didn’t mean she wasn’t loved.  
  
Entering his quarters his eyes fell on desktop monitor, upon which the name of his Secret Santa was still displayed. _Seven_ , he’d gotten _Seven._  
  
Of all of the people he could have been assigned, he’d managed to get the _one_ person he knew least. One he wasn’t particularly interested in getting to know.  
  
_What kind of ridiculous universe would give him Seven instead of Kathryn?_  
  
Tom’s comment on the bridge gave him an idea though. He could find out who had Kathryn and swap. Surely anyone else would do better with a gift for Seven than Chakotay would. He had no clue what to get the former drone.  
  
Not that he knew exactly what he would get Kathryn, but at least with her he had some ideas. Books and art were a good start. She also appreciated spending time with the crew, although he wasn’t sure how happy she would be at the Christmas party.  
  
Tomorrow, he decided, he would put feelers out and see whether he could discover who had Kathryn’s name. _Hopefully_ they’d be willing so swap.


	7. December 7th - Banana Pancakes -

_“You?”_ Chakotay asked incredulously.  
  
B’Elanna shrugged as she cut another bite-sized piece from her stack of pancakes. “And?”  
  
Her rations had been running low of late and she hadn’t had banana pancakes in some time. Tom’s generosity had been unprecedented to say the least, she figured he wanted something, but she was willing to enjoy the bribery before he asked.  
  
Chakotay took the seat across from her and sighed heavily.  
  
“You want to swap for her, don’t you?” B’Elanna theorised aloud.  
  
He cringed. “Of course I do,” he said. “But I guarantee you won’t want who I have.”  
  
There were few people B’Elanna wouldn’t want to trade for, fewer still he’d be hesitant to name. “You got Seven, didn’t you?”  
  
He glanced around as though trying to make sure no one overheard. “Yes,” he responded conspiratorially.  
  
Playing along B’Elanna leaned forward and glanced to the sides. “No deal.”  
  
Chakotay leaned back in his chair and pouted. Ok, pouted probably wasn’t the right term, grouched was more accurate.  
  
“I’m sorry, Chakotay, but there is no way I’d take Seven over the Captain,” she began. “Tom, on the other hand…”  
  
His eyes narrowed and frowned cautiously. “If I got you Tom’s name, you’d give me the Captain’s?”  
  
She shrugged. “I built him something, but he gets overly suspicious if I just give him gifts out of nowhere.”  
  
Chakotay’s eyes became distant, presumably as he pondered his options. “Is he the only person you’d trade me for?”  
  
She gave a light grin. “Well, I’d add in replicator rations, but I know you need those to keep the captain supplied with coffee,” she joked.  
  
“That’s a yes then?”  
  
Instead of responding, B’Elanna fixed her eyes on his and took another bite of her breakfast.  
  
“Right,” he muttered. “I’ll just – go find Tom’s name.”  
  
“Ok,” she replied. She waited until he stood before speaking again. “I’d hurry though, someone else asked to swap me yesterday.”  
  
He halted mid step. “Who?”  
  
She smirked and then shrugged. “It’s a whole lot less fun if I tell you that.”  
  
B’Elanna had been surprised when Tuvok requested the swap. He knew who she had before she told him. It was unlike a Vulcan to cheat, or to request a change at all. Maybe spending so much time with so many emotional aliens was beginning to rub off on him.  
  
Chakotay was a whole lot more resourceful than Tuvok though. Undoubtedly she’d be passing the Captain’s name along to him. Then again Tuvok’s starting position seemed rather favourable. The Vulcan had pulled Susan Nicoletti; she certainly had a lot more friends than Seven.


	8. December 8th - Coffee Icecream -

Kathryn had been far too busy to check the name of the person she’d received as her Secret Santa, until now, that is. She loaded her file and stared at the name.  
  
It figured. It really did. She shouldn’t have been surprised. This entire journey seemed to have been the universe’s way of showing her what she didn’t have, what she couldn’t have.  
  
With a huff she closed the file and turned away from her monitor. She should have known better not to joke about it, the other day. It could have been worse though, she guessed. It could have been someone she didn’t know well. If she was going to be forced to get someone aboard a gift, there wasn’t a single person she knew better.  
  
She even had something she could give him. A gift she’d picked up a couple of weeks for his next birthday.  
  
With a sigh she stood and meandered to her replicator. She wanted something to keep her mind off Christmas and home and Chakotay.  
  
“Coffee ice cream,” she requested.  
  
She took the dish after it materialised and tasted a small spoonful. Coffee ice cream was a delicacy she rarely afforded herself. She kept to the basics when using replicator rations, except for her dinners with Chakotay. If ever there was a case where someone needed extra rations she wanted to be able to transfer them. She’d done so a couple of times in secret. A few rations went to Harry in the beginning after he’d replicated himself a clarinet. Some went to Sam after she gave birth to Naomi and she often passed some along to Chakotay after times of great stress, when he’d used many of his own on her caffeine addiction.  
  
Today she felt she needed a reprieve from thinking about everyone else. Honestly, if it were acceptable to do so, she’d lock herself in her quarters until this whole Christmas garbage was over with. Chakotay had made it abundantly clear, though, that he wouldn’t allow her to do so again.  
  
“I will drag you out of your quarters if you try that again, Kathryn,” he’d snapped the last time.  
  
She’d seldom seen him so angry. His aggression had left her feeling alone, once again. Her depression got worse over the year and despite her efforts to control herself, control her emotions, she’d cracked after Voyager’s encounter with the Equinox.  
  
Obviously it occurred to her that he had just been employing a ‘tough love’ tactic. She knew Chakotay would never lay a finger on her.  
  
After everything she’d put Chakotay through, it was a wonder he still spoke to her.  
  
She paced as she ate, trying not to become too relaxed. Chakotay, Tuvok and the Doctor always chastised her for working too hard, but in the rare moments she found herself able to unwind her muscles would lock up and ache. She also found that her stresses compounded and her thoughts began to fixate on her guilt and her anxieties. If she stopped, she felt.  
  
She tasted a spoonful of her ice cream, closing her eyes as the coffee flavour filled her senses. The ice cream wasn’t nearly as good as that made by the café around the block from Starfleet headquarters. Replicated food always had an odd after taste or a strange texture. But after years in the Delta Quadrant she could hardly remember what real, Earth food tasted like.  
  
Still, it was coffee. She would always have coffee.


	9. December 9th – Angla'bosque –

“You have Seven’s name?” the Doctor asked a little too eagerly.  
  
Chakotay smiled thinking about how easy this was going to be. The Doctor was one of the biggest gossips on the ship, if anyone could get Tom’s name, it would be him. “Yes, but I’m not willing to trade,” he stated.  
  
“What?” the Doctor spluttered. He lowered the medical tricorder and fixed him with a strange frown. “Correct me if I’m wrong but you and Seven don’t exactly,” he made air quotations with his fingers, still holding the tricorder. “Get along.”  
  
Chakotay sighed as though frustrated and scratched his head. “Ok, look, there’s one name I’ll trade for,” he confided. “If you can get me Tom’s name, I’ll give you Seven’s.”  
  
The door hissed open mid-sentence and an interested Icheb cocked his head to the side. “Tom’s name?” he questioned.  
  
Chakotay perked at his tone. “Do you have it?”  
  
The former drone shook his head. “I would like to swap for Seven,” he stated.  
  
“I don’t think so,” the Doctor responded in a snarky manner. “The Commander is going to trade with me.”  
  
Chakotay glanced between them both. Two sets of eyes and ears would work better than just one. “Actually, I’ll give it to whoever can get me Tom’s name first.”  
  
“But, Commander!” the Doctor exclaimed. He actually gave a haughty frown.  
  
“Time is of the essence, someone else is also trying to get Tom’s name,” he warned them, ignoring the Doctor’s petulance.  
  
“May I ask _why_ you are attempting to procure Tom Paris’ name?” Icheb asked.  
  
Chakotay rubbed his ear, not sure he wanted to share his reason. The Doctor, somewhat more astute than the young lad, filled in the blanks.  
  
“Because whoever has the Captain’s name, wants Tom’s, am I right, Commander?”  
  
Chakotay cleared his throat, embarrassed by how transparent he was.  
  
“You want the Captain’s name?” Icheb reiterated.  
  
“Yes,” he admitted. “Her morale’s been low; I want to help pick her back up.”  
  
The Doctor stared at him, unconvinced.  
  
Chakotay jumped off the bio-bed.  
  
“I haven’t finished my examination, Commander,” the Doctor exclaimed.  
  
Chakotay rubbed his stomach. “You know, suddenly I’m feeling much better,” he responded.  
  
With a frown the Doctor snapped his tricorder shut. “Well, don’t come crying to me next time Neelix’ Angla'bosque gives you indigestion.”  
  
With a chuckle, he gave the pair a grin and exited.

***=/\=***

Icheb watched the Commander leave and eyed the Doctor warily. “I – must attend to my work,” he stated casually.  
  
Perhaps there was a way he could hack into the logs and discover who had received Lieutenant Paris’ name.  
  
The Doctor cocked an eyebrow. “As must I,” he stated in much the same tone Icheb had used. He wished to pursue his own investigation into who had Lieutenant Paris’ name. He would not succeed.  
  
Icheb had the perfect gift. He would not be beaten.


	10. December 10th – Lonely Mushroom Soup –

Kathryn had cancelled their dinner at the last minute. She sounded just as unhappy as she had during their last meal, perhaps worse.  
  
He suspected that their recent run of no distractions had her pondering their time out here again. She was shutting away, just as she had a couple of years ago. He wanted to bring her back, make her realise just how much she meant to – the crew.  
  
Taking a sip of his mushroom soup, Chakotay glanced at the other bowl and frowned. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed so hard during their last dinner? He should have known better, really. She seldom liked to speak about her personal life and even on the occasions she did, she was reticent to share much. Well, for the last couple of years, anyway, ever since she’d received her Dear John letter.  
  
The soup tasted poor tonight. He wasn’t quite sure whether the replicator had just failed to adhere to his specifications or he was just in a sour mood due of the lack of company. Most likely it was the latter.  
  
But, he reminded himself, Kathryn had given a lot for Voyager’s crew and she asked for nothing in return. The least he could do was be patient when she was in a sour mood. The least he could do was become her secret Santa and get her a gift she’d never forget.  
  
He had an idea already. It would be difficult, but it was doable.  
  
Chakotay’s eyes fell on the wall that joined his quarters to Kathryn’s. Tempting as it was to take the dinner to her and attempt to encourage her to talk through her issues, he thought better of it. She’d very likely shut him out altogether then, and he couldn’t stand that thought.

***=/\=***

Kathryn regretted her decision to cancel dinner almost immediately, but she stuck to her guns. She couldn’t stand the idea of bringing Chakotay down with her depressive attitude, so it was best to just stay away.  
  
She’d managed to keep her depression at bay for such a long time, the fact that it was truly kicking in now, because the crew wanted to celebrate _Christmas_ no less, certainly made her feel the fool.  
  
The least she could do was not allow her maudlin to rub off on the crew. She could avoid them for the lead up to the celebration and just make a quick appearance to give Chakotay his gift. They wouldn’t miss her.  
  
Every aspect of Christmas seemed like a universally orchestrated slap in the face. Every corner she looked around seemed to be yet another reminder of home and what she’d done to the Voyager crew.  
  
The colours on deck three were the same as the ones her mother had picked their first Christmas without her father. The enthusiasm of the crew made her think of Phoebe when she had been younger, running down the stairs to look under the tree. The seemingly cooler air reminded her of a captured kiss during the first snow fall of the year.  
  
Her mind, being the callous thing that it was, flashed an image of the kiss in question. But Mark was no longer the man she saw herself in the snow with. He hadn’t been for a long time.  
  
Her eyes flicked to the wall that joined her quarters to Chakotay’s and she let out a small sigh. It wasn’t his fault.  
  
_No_ , she agreed angrily with her own thought. _It’s not his fault that you’re in love with him. It’s not his fault that you refuse to pursue anything while Voyager is still in the Delta Quadrant._  
  
Her eyes closed and she leaned back against her sofa in a pitiful effort to clear her mind. Not his fault at all.


	11. December 11th – Whatever that brown thing was –

“Crewman Delaney,” the Doctor exclaimed pleasantly. The young woman entered clutching her stomach and glared at the hologram’s jovial tone.

“I don’t know what it was, Doc, but my gut –” Jenny paused clutching to the bio-bed closest to the sickbay doors. His auditory sensors picked up a rather disturbing grumble from her stomach.

“No doubt another of Neelix’s experiments?” He moved to the counter and grabbed a medical tricorder to scan the crewman.

He withdrew the wand and moved it along her stomach to take a detailed report of her unfortunate condition.

“Yeah,” she groaned. “Hopefully he gets it right by the Christmas party.”

The Doctor sensed his opening and gave a confident grin. “The Christmas party,” he moved close to show his interest, though she leaned away, which was odd. “Are you a part of the Secret Santa?”

She eyed him with a rather strange expression before nodding. “Ah, yeah.”

“Excellent,” he exclaimed, snapping his tricorder shut.

She opened her mouth as though to ask what was excellent, but he turned and raised a hand before she could speak, moving to replicate the cure to what ailed her.

“I just mean,” he began, attempting to disguise his keen interest. “I got Mike Ayala’s name,” he disclosed, hoping to prompt her to reveal her own Secret Santa. He loaded a hypospray and put on a bright grin.

“Oh,” she mumbled as he touched the hypospray to her neck.

“You should be feeling better in a couple of minutes.”

He cleared his throat expectantly and she gave an awkward smile.

“Who did you get?” he pressed finally.

“Ah –” she glanced toward the door. “Swinn, I got Swinn,” she mumbled. “Look, Doc, thanks for patching me up. I need to get back to Astrometrics.”

He couldn’t disguise his disappointed sigh. Not that he really needed to; she was out the door like a flash.

***=/\=***

Icheb had a minor obstacle when it came to discovering the identity of the person holding Tom Paris’ name. He wasn’t an adept conversationalist. In fact, he wasn’t adept at too much when it came to social interactions in general.  
  
Seven and the Doctor had attempted to teach him, but it had swiftly come to his attention that neither the Seven nor the Doctor really knew too much about socialising themselves.  
  
So he’d relegated to approaching random members of the crew when they were on their own and asking directly whether they had Tom Paris’ name.  
  
His attempts so far had been lacklustre at best. Still he’d narrowed down three of the seventy something participants. Crewman Bennet, Ensign Cowl and Ensign Allen did not have Tom Paris’ name.  
  
He could not submit, however. He had to get Seven’s name. After all, his gift for her was perfect. The Doctor’s gift would pale in comparison.  
  
His eyes flicked around the mess hall as he ran over the list of participants in his mind. Ensign Kim and Lieutenant Paris sat together, obviously asking either would be ridiculous at this juncture, given whose name he was attempting to procure. The only other person on the list was Commander Tuvok, who sat at a table on the opposite end of the hall.  
  
Icheb approached the table. “Commander,” he announced.  
  
Commander Tuvok glanced up before motioning for Icheb to take a seat. He did so, shifting before finding a relatively comfortable position to sit.  
  
“What can I do for you?” The Vulcan asked. He placed his spoon beside his bowl and waited patiently for Icheb to speak.  
  
“I am attempting to swap my name for the Secret Santa,” he revealed.  
  
Tuvok’s brow rose and his head cocked to the side. “Whose name are you looking for?”  
  
Icheb glanced to the side and leaned in closer. “Lieutenant Paris.”  
  
Tuvok’s eyes darted to the Lieutenant and he cleared his throat. “For what purpose?” he asked rather pointedly.  
  
Icheb sat back, confused by the Commander’s response. “I wish to switch for Seven’s name, with Commander Chakotay.”  
  
Tuvok gave a slight frown, seemingly considering something. “I do not have Lieutenant Paris’ name.”  
  
Icheb sensed there was something beyond the Commander’s words but couldn’t ascertain what that might be. He gave a short nod and stood. “Thank you, Commander.”  
  
Tuvok bowed his head, though he seemed disinterested in the farewell, eyes searching as though deep in thought.  
  
If nothing else Icheb had removed another name from his list.


	12. December 12th - Apricot Pies -

B’Elanna’s couldn’t keep her eyes off Chakotay. He sat in the corner of the mess hall on his own, staring glumly at Neelix’s current experiment; an apricot pie.  
  
The pie was actually quite good, so the Commander’s maudlin air seemed undeserving. In all likelihood his mood had been brought down by something else, or more accurately, _someone else._  
  
B’Elanna wasn’t a bridge officer. She was seldom privy to interactions between Chakotay and the Captain, first hand at least. Tom was always more than happy to pass on information; unfortunately he was running late for lunch.  
  
She knew all too well the reason for Chakotay’s desire to get the Captain’s name. Morale had _little_ to do with it. Then again the Captain’s morale, and likely the rest of the crew’s morale would improve dramatically if something finally happened between the pair.  
  
No one knew the _exact_ reasons nothing had happened yet. Even Chakotay wouldn’t say a word on the matter. He just moped around and occasionally visited B’Elanna, sitting on her couch and sighing heavily before revealing the barest details of yet another time the Captain pulled away or some such.  
  
She’d tell Chakotay to get over the woman, to move on, but there was no point. Nothing even entered his vision when Captain Janeway was present. Then again, pained as he was at times, B’Elanna had never seen Chakotay this _content_.  
  
The door to the mess hall hissed open. Tom and Harry entered, mid conversation, and headed toward her.  
  
“It’ll be ready in about a week,” Tom said as they approached. He swept by, leaning down to kiss B’Elanna on the cheek before taking the seat across from her.  
  
“Good, it’s been a while since Buster and Proton saw some action,” Harry commented.  
  
B’Elanna snorted a laugh at his choice of words, but the pair ignored her.  
  
“This time we’ll be fighting Emperor Scorpius, Arachnia’s ally and _lover,_ ” Tom explained.  
  
B’Elanna rolled her eyes. “I really thought you were over that program.”  
  
“Not when the universe is in such peril!” Harry proclaimed, earning a glance from Ensign Vorik at the next table.  
  
Tom, astute as ever, glanced in Chakotay’s direction and frowned.  
  
B’Elanna leaned forward and lowered her voice so as not to make the entire room privy to the conversation she was about to start. “What’s going on there?”  
  
He shrugged. “This time I don’t know,” he revealed quietly. “They haven’t really been speaking much. The Captain seems angry one minute, sad the next.”  
  
She chanced another glance in his direction noting that he’d barely touched his lunch. Maybe she should just swap. She could get rid of Seven’s name and get someone she actually wanted to give a gift to. She didn’t _need_ Tom’s name to give him something.  
  
“You know what,” Harry muttered, eyes fixed on the Commander. “We could – fix this,” he added in a conspiratorial tone.  
  
B’Elanna and Tom exchanged a glance. “What did you have in mind?”  
  
“It’s not much, but I’ve been thinking about setting up holographic relays in here –” Harry began. He gave B’Elanna a nervous glance. “ _Just_ for the party, I know how much of a drain they’d be.”  
  
Tom and B’Elanna listened with great interest they finally came to an agreement, though they’d need to involve a few more people. It was a long shot, but it might just work.


	13. December 13th - Vulcan Green Tea -

The lift doors hissed open, admitting Commander Chakotay, who gave Tuvok an obligatory smile, before ordering for the lift to proceed to the bridge.  
  
They stood in silence for a moment before the Commander, feeling the need for small talk, spoke. “How are your family, Tuvok?”  
  
Tuvok regretted his decision to forgo his morning Vulcan green tea. Small talk was not his forte.  
  
To say that the relationship between the Commander and Tuvok was strained, may be an understatement. Their initial meeting certainly left a lot to be desired and the Commander seemed to have taken Tuvok’s betrayal rather personally. Nevertheless, pleasantries were a deep rooted Human trait and ignoring them was considered rude.  
  
“When last I spoke to T’Pel, she was well,” he answered. His desire to end the conversation there was overshadowed by a greater desire to maintain the peace that had held between them for the past few years. “And how is your sister?”  
  
The Commander drew a short breath as though considering his answer. “She’s good, not very chatty over pathfinder.”  
  
Tuvok considered telling the Commander that he understood her position, but thought better of it.  
  
He was, however, interested to find out why the Commander wished to procure Tom Paris’ name for Secret Santa. “Icheb approached me two days ago,” Tuvok stated.  
  
“Oh?” the Commander gave a confused glance, but Tuvok could see him pondering what Icheb had said.  
  
“He asked whether I had Tom Paris’ name as my Secret Santa,” Tuvok added.  
  
The Commander cleared his throat and turned in Tuvok’s direction. “That’s - interesting.” He frowned thoughtfully before seemingly coming to some kind of realisation.  
  
“You are attempting to procure the Captain’s name, are you not?”  
  
The Commander frowned, obviously irked that Tuvok knew of his attempts. “Yes,” he admitted without preamble.  
  
Tuvok nodded. He knew of the Captain’s unrest and as chief of security, as her friend he had a duty to attempt to correct the issue. “I too have been attempting to obtain the Captain’s name.”  
  
“I just realised,” the Commander responded flatly.  
  
Tuvok frowned. Logically he should be the one who gave the Captain a gift. He had known her longer than anyone else on the crew. He knew that the Commander had become close friends with her, but Tuvok knew her better than he knew anyone else on the ship.  
  
“It is illogical to assume that you will find Lieutenant Paris’ name before I will,” Tuvok commented. This was the truth. Tuvok had far better investigative ability than the Commander, or Icheb for that matter. He’d already crossed off more than half of the list.  
  
Commander Chakotay rounded on him, about to comment, when the doors opened to the bridge. Instead he put on a smile and motioned for Tuvok to proceed.  
  
Tuvok did so, glancing down at the Captain as he approached his station. “Good morning,” he addressed.  
  
“Morning,” she responded dully. Her eyes were fixed on the carpet in front and to the right of her chair, her glum mood evident. It appeared as though her mood was deteriorating daily, which only emphasised the fact that he needed to acquire her name.  
  
Commander Chakotay moved past and down toward his seat. Tuvok observed something rather intriguing. Oh, he’d noticed before the way they both appeared happier in the presence of the other, but something was different this time.  
  
Tuvok did not wish to over romanticise the moment, however, the Captain appeared to brighten at the sight of him. Her eyes followed Commander Chakotay to his seat and she leaned across to greet him.  
  
For some time Tuvok had known they held each other as more than just colleagues. Perhaps he had been intentionally blind to just how close they appeared.  
  
Perhaps he had been wrong?


	14. December 14th - Tea, Blend 12 -

Chakotay stared blankly at the doors of his office mulling over everything Tuvok had said yesterday. He knew Tuvok could be jealous, for a Vulcan, but this was something he’d never imagined of the man. He was going out of his way to stop Chakotay from getting Kathryn’s name. What the hell did the Vulcan expect to give her for Christmas?  
  
Chakotay vividly imagined Tuvok handing Kathryn some Vulcan candle or a book on Surak’s teachings.  
  
The worst part about all of this was the fact that Tuvok was probably right. He was going to find out who had Tom’s name first, even with Chakotay, Icheb and the Doctor all searching.  
  
_So much for my attempt to boost Kathryn’s morale,_ he thought derisively.  
  
His plan head been perfect, too, something he knew she’d never expect. Something beautiful and wonderful that he _knew_ would make her smile again.  
  
He slumped in his chair, tossing the PADD he’d been holding for the past thirty minutes onto the desk. He’d achieved less than nothing this morning.  
  
Pushing himself away from his work space, he began to pace, dwelling on the moment.  
  
Despite the fact that Tuvok knew the Captain well, Chakotay was convinced he’d mishandle the gift. He’d send her even further into her depression and they’d be facing a situation similar to a couple of years ago. Kathryn would lock herself in her quarters and she wouldn’t let anyone in again.  
  
Chakotay stopped, combing a hand through his hair, pondering a way to work out who had Tom’s name.  
  
His eyes flicked to the replicator. “Computer, tea, blend 12, hot.”  
  
The drink materialised and he plucked it out, taking a tentative sip.  
  
Returning to his seat he let his mind wander. He needed to think outside the box.  
  
“Computer, display replicator records for everyone in the Secret Santa,” he requested.  
  
“Unable to comply, access to replicator records for Secret Santa participants has been locked out.”  
  
_Damn!_  
  
“On who’s authority?”  
  
“Captain Kathryn Janeway.”  
  
Chakotay sniffed ironically. “Clever,” he muttered.  
  
In all likelihood Tuvok had already thought to check replicator logs.  
  
Chakotay grinned. But Tuvok didn’t have a good friend who was adept at hacking into Starfleet systems.


	15. December 15th – Garlic and Ginger Chicken Drumsticks –

Tom’s request had not been simple, nor had Harry’s idea. Of course, just about the entire crew had jumped aboard for Harry’s plan. Not that they had much, yet.  
  
The Ensign had taken it upon himself to set up the generators and patch power through. He’d also spent hours recruiting people to help out.  
  
B’Elanna, however, had been left with the task of setting up for Tom’s Secret Santa. The task was doable, funny enough, but not something she could do without raising suspicions. Carey had already begun asking questions about the rerouted power and modifications to various systems.  
  
Tactfully B’Elanna told him they were system tests, that, since Voyager was in a relatively quiet part of space at the moment, it was a good time for some load testing. After all, they hadn’t had the opportunity after their last upgrade.  
  
He’d believed her, though she’d caught him staring a number of times. This was meant to be a surprise. Albeit a surprise that may get Tom Paris ejected through a docking port. If Carey found out he may just spoil everything.  
  
B’Elanna almost jumped out of her skin when the doors opened behind her. In an effort to see who had entered, and cover her work if need be, she just about fell backwards out of her chair. She gave a heavy sigh of relief when her eyes fell on Tom, who waved a plate in the air.  
  
“You said you wouldn’t have time for lunch, so I brought a little to you,” he said as he approached. He placed the tray in front of her. “The next in the line of Neelix’s experiments: Garlic and Ginger Chicken drumsticks.”  
  
B’Elanna gave the dish and Tom a curious frown.  
  
“There’s no leola root,” he promised with a laugh.  
  
“Ginger and garlic?” She questioned. She’d never had ginger and garlic in the same dish, the combination wasn’t something she’d ever really considered.  
  
Tom stared at her as though she’d grown horns. “Ginger and garlic were made for one another.”  
  
B’Elanna couldn’t help but feel that he was tricking her.  
  
“ _Trust me_ ,” he implored.  
  
She sniffed and picked up a small drumstick, tasting a bite. Honestly she thought she’d hate it, but the flavours worked rather well together. She stared at the food in surprise and gave Tom a light smirk.  
  
“I told you,” he jabbed her in the side with his elbow.  
  
She noted his eyes survey the area, as though to make sure no one was within ear shot. He had an ulterior motive, she should have known. “How is the – load test going?”  
  
She rolled her eyes in the hope that he’d realise just how ‘inconspicuous’ he _wasn’t_.  
  
He merely shrugged and grinned. She shouldn’t have expected anything less, really.


	16. December 16th – Vegetable Biryani –

“Vegetable Biryani,” Chakotay stated. He took the seat across from her desk and stared at her expectantly, a faint grin touching his lips.  
  
Kathryn’s brow rose as she glanced up from her PADD. “Actually, I just had lunch,” she lied.  
  
His head cocked to the side, obviously he didn’t believe her. “Not for lunch, for dinner,” he prompted. “Voyager hasn’t had a run this long without encountering something terrible in quite some time. We should enjoy the quiet while it lasts.” Though he sounded blasé about the invitation she caught undertones of what he was actually saying.  
  
_Voyager hasn’t been this quiet since we encountered the void, when you became depressed and locked yourself away. You’re becoming depressed again._  
  
She hadn’t appreciated his efforts back then, not enough. Truth be told she’d never have made it this far without him. She certainly wouldn’t have made it past that encounter without him. With a thoughtful sigh she placed her PADD on the desk and nodded. She owed him.  
  
“Alright, I’m afraid you’ll have to cook though,” she said with a sly grin.  
  
He gave a laugh that sounded rather insultingly relieved. “It would be my pleasure.”  
  
“I’ll bring the wine,” she agreed.  
  
He gave another smile and a short nod before taking his leave.

***=/\=***

Kathryn mentally prepared herself for dinner. She didn’t want to ruin yet another evening with her depressive mood, not when Chakotay was trying so hard to help her out of her funk.  
  
She arrived a little early, a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc in hand. Kathryn wasn’t normally partial to white wines, but the computer had suggested it as the perfect accompaniment to Vegetable Biryani.  
  
Chakotay gave a brilliant grin as he motioned for her to enter. “Perfect timing.” He took the bottle from her and motioned toward the table as he returned to the replicator.  
  
She followed his direction and took her normal seat. “I managed to finish all of my reports,” she told him brightly. “So I’m all yours for the evening.”  
  
He glanced back over his shoulder, smirking. She had meant the statement in a platonic way, of course! Still, when he turned back to the replicator she rolled her eyes and rubbed her brow.  
  
Whether he read anything in to the comment or not, he gave no indication, with the exception of that smile.  
  
He returned placing a bowl of vegetable biryani in front of her setting a new record for the most delicious thing she’d ever smelled. “This looks fantastic,” she told him enthusiastically. Her stomach grumbled, obviously excited for a good, well cooked meal.  
  
“It’s based off my cousin’s recipe. He always had a flare for curries and the like and used to experiment,” Chakotay explained as he took his seat.  
  
Vegetable Biryani was one of Kathryn’s favourite dishes, though she and Chakotay had never had it before. When she cooked, it often didn’t matter what the meal was; usually it ended up a disaster and when Chakotay cooked, she was always just glad to have something well made. It had never occurred to her to put in a request, except for repeat dishes, of course.  
  
“If it tastes anything like it smells, then it’s going to be wonderful,” Kathryn complimented again. She watched patiently, or mostly patiently, as Chakotay laid his napkin across his lap and picked up his fork.  
  
He gave a smile and nodded to the food.  
  
Eagerly Kathryn loaded her own utensil with a scoop, savouring the scent as much as she knew she’d enjoy the first bite. At least that’s what she thought.  
  
The universe, it seemed, had other ideas. Voyager shuddered, enough that Chakotay’s wine glass fell, smashing on the table spilling its contents over the surface. Barely a moment later red alert sounded and Tuvok’s voice called for all hands to battle stations.


	17. December 17th – I Don’t Think This is Fruit Cake –

Neelix had said it was fruit cake. Honestly though, Harry was getting a little sick of being his taste tester. On the odd occasion he got something right, the gingerbread cookies and the peach pie were fantastic. This, however, this made a ‘thunk’ sound when Harry tapped it with his fork.  
  
“I’m not really that hungry, Neelix,” he attempted.  
  
The Talaxian fixed him with an imploring frown.  
  
Harry grimaced at the dish and attempted to break a piece off with his fork. This proved difficult enough that even Neelix cringed. “Do you think I used too much flour?”  
  
Harry knew less about cooking than he did about pretty much any other subject. He shrugged and placed his fork on the table. “No offense, Neelix, but, ah, I don’t think this is fruit cake.”  
  
Neelix sat across from Harry, a dejected frown souring his features. “I followed the recipe in the database,” he muttered.  
  
Harry wasn’t so sure about that. He’d never tried fruit cake, but surely it couldn’t be this bad.  
  
Neelix leaned forward and picked up a spare fork. He jabbed at one of the pieces Harry had broken off before finally managing to skewer it, then popped it in his mouth. He cocked his head to the side, seemingly considering the flavours. “A little tough, but I think it’s not bad.”  
  
With a chuckle Harry pushed the plate toward him. “It’s all yours.”  
  
Without argument Neelix continued picking at the cake giving each mouthful an appraising frown.  
  
“So,” the Talaxian said between bites. “Who have you got for your Secret Santa?”  
  
Harry sniffed a laugh. “You first.”  
  
“I have Lieutenant Chapman,” Neelix whispered in a conspiratorial tone. “And I have no idea what to get him.”  
  
Harry wasn’t really sure what to say. William Chapman was a nice guy, if a bit jumpy, but Harry didn’t know the man well enough to make any suggestions.  
  
“I was thinking of asking Tom for a hand,” he commented. Tom had made friends with basically everyone aboard. He, if anyone, would know what Chapman might like.  
  
“He’s my Secret Santa,” Harry revealed.  
  
Neelix blinked. “Tom?”  
  
With a nod Harry leaned in close. “And I’m in the same boat. I have no idea what to get him.”  
  
“You know, Tuvok asked me a couple of days ago if I have –” he sat up straight and put on a tone mocking the Vulcan, “Lieutenant Paris. Apparently he wants to trade.”  
  
Harry scratched his head, genuinely confused as to why Tuvok might want Tom’s name.  
  
Neelix seemed to read his mind. “All I know is that it has something to do with the Captain.”  
  
That made more sense. Whoever had the Captain’s name wanted Tom’s.  
  
Harry hadn’t assumed Tuvok might be willing to break the rules in this sort of game. Then again he knew the Captain well, whereas he probably had relatively few ideas what to give other members of the crew.  
  



	18. December 18th – Talaxian Spiced Tomato Soup –

Tuvok glanced up, surprised to see Ensign Kim standing above his table. He hadn’t heard the young man approach; he was a little out of sorts, apparently.  
  
“Commander,” Ensign Kim addressed politely.  
  
Tuvok placed his spoon next to his bowl of soup; some new concoction of Neelix’s with far too much Talaxian spice for the Vulcan palate.  
  
“Ensign,” Tuvok responded with a nod. He motioned to the chair in front of him.  
  
Ensign Kim took the seat and gave an awkward grin. “I heard you’re looking for Tom’s name,” he stated bluntly.  
  
Tuvok raised a brow curiously. “Indeed, do you have Lieutenant Paris’ name?”  
  
Harry’s grin intensified before he nodded.  
  
“And you would be willing to trade?”  
  
The young man’s expression changed to something Tuvok couldn’t quite interpret. “I don’t really know what to get Tom, aside from more holodeck time.”  
  
Tuvok nodded understanding his dilemma completely.  
  
“So what are you going to get the Captain?” He asked suddenly.  
  
Tuvok paused. He wasn’t at all surprised that Harry had worked out why Tuvok wanted Tom’s name. But he hadn’t thought much beyond the idea that he could improve her morale with a gift. Logically she was the best choice for him; he knew her well enough that he would be able to get her something she would actually enjoy, whereas he wasn’t privy to the interests of many other members of the crew. That being said, he wasn’t certain he was the best choice for her.  
  
“I believe you should offer to trade with Icheb.”  
  
Harry sat back in his chair, staring at Tuvok in confusion. “I thought you wanted Tom’s name?”  
  
“Icheb wished to trade me for Lieutenant Paris’ name,” he said. “I did not have it.” He would prefer not to lie, in this instance.  
  
“Oh, I thought –” Harry scratched his head before nodding. “Right, I’ll go talk to Icheb then.”  
  
Tuvok gave a nod. Perhaps the Commander’s gift would indeed improve the Captain’s morale.

***=/\=***

Harry found Icheb with Naomi in the cargo bay working on mathematical equations. They glanced up as he entered.  
  
“Seven is in Astrometrics,” Icheb informed him, before returning to their work.  
  
“Actually, I was looking for you,” Harry responded.  
  
The young man turned back to him with a curious expression. “Me?”  
  
With a grin, Harry approached and held out a data stick. “I hear you’re looking for this.”  
  
Icheb stood, staring at the device curiously. “What is it?”  
  
“Tom’s name for the Secret Santa.”  
  
Icheb’s eyes lit up like, for want of a better phrase, a kid on Christmas. “Yes!” He blurted snatching the device. “You may have Megan Delaney.”  
  
Harry gave a short laugh partly from Icheb’s reaction and partly from his new Secret Santa. He’d been keeping a gift for Megan’s birthday, but maybe Christmas would be a better time for it?  
  
“How did you know I was looking?”  
  
“Tuvok let me know, actually,” Harry answered. “I thought he was after the name for himself, apparently not.”  
  
Icheb gave a distant grin and turned back toward Naomi. He stopped midway and returned his gaze to Harry, as though he’d forgotten something. “Thank you.”  
  



	19. December 19th – Haloumi Salad -

Icheb all but barrelled into Chakotay’s office, eyes wide. “I have procured Lieutenant Paris’ name!”  
  
Chakotay stared at him for a long time, not quite registering what he was saying. Finally the words reached his mind and he gave a relieved grin. “Seven’s name is all yours!”  
  
He proffered a data stick to Icheb. Although they didn’t really need to swap anything physical, it almost felt ceremonial to hand on Seven’s name, and bring himself one step closer to Kathryn’s.  
  
“Thank you, Commander,” he exclaimed as they traded. Chakotay had never seen the lad so excited.  
  
“How did you get it? Who had it?” He couldn’t help but ask. His discussion a couple of days earlier, in the turbolift, had left him feeling forlorn and, to be honest, a little outmatched. But somehow Icheb had defeated the odds.  
  
“Ensign Kim approached me,” Icheb explained. “He heard that I had been looking.”  
  
Chakotay couldn’t stop grinning. His eyes flicked to the device of their own accord. Harry had Tom’s name and he gave it up?  
  
“Remind me to thank whoever told him you were looking,” Chakotay remarked.  
  
“Commander Tuvok,” Icheb stated.  
  
Chakotay glanced up. “Tuvok?”  
  
Icheb nodded. “Yes, Ensign Kim said he approached Commander Tuvok first, because he believed the Commander was searching for Lieutenant Paris’ name, when he did-”  
  
Chakotay cut him off with the wave of his hand. “I guess I owe him one,” Chakotay muttered, unsure what this meant.  
  
Icheb didn’t stay long, apparently wishing to prepare his gift for Seven. Chakotay didn’t mind, though. He had to plan his own gift. He also had to thank Tuvok.  
  
Chakotay began to pick at the remanence of his lunch, haloumi salad, as he mulled over what Icheb had said. Tuvok had been quite clear in his declaration that he would ‘win the race to get the Captain’s name’. Why then had he just given up? It certainly wasn’t like Tuvok.  
  
They had never become friends, but perhaps this was some kind of peace offering. Tuvok’s way of ending a possible war before it began? Whatever his reasoning, Chakotay knew he would need to thank the Vulcan.


	20. December 20th – Hot Coco –

Chakotay’s gift wasn’t something ordinary, nor was it something easy to pull off. He’d spent the morning organising something he hoped would turn out rather wonderful, if the crew could pull it off. All the while acting casual around Kathryn, sharing a coffee, or in his case a tea, hoping she had no inkling of the crew’s plan.  
  
The gift itself wouldn’t just be from Chakotay. Kathryn needed to know just how deeply her crew cared for her, so he had organised a picture of the entire crew together. They had responded rather well to the suggestion. Not even Tuvok raised any objection, despite the fact that they’d be leaving all stations unmanned for the time it took to get the picture.  
  
By some miracle the entire event was coming along rather well. The crew had all agreed to be on hand, in the mess hall by twenty three hundred. The Captain should certainly be off the bridge by that time and with any luck would have retired to bed then too.  
  
In theory the entire thing should be simple. The crew would meet in the mess hall and pose for the holoimage as swiftly as they were able, before returning to their stations. With luck there would be no station unmanned for more than thirty minutes. B’Elanna and Harry had also worked on routing controls for engineering and the bridge to the mess hall consoles, in case of emergency. Last, but certainly not least, Voyager’s autopilot would be engaged at low impulse for the duration. Tom was the most anxious about this part of the plan; however the difference between low speed and stationary was obvious, especially to the Captain.  
  
As Chakotay had discovered commonly in the past, events seldom progress as planned.  
  
The moment he was off duty he made an excuse to avoid another dinner; that he had booked the holodeck and wished to train for the evening, before setting to work to make sure everyone arrived in the mess hall on time. Kathryn seemed only a little taken aback, though he immediately agreed to dinner the following night, she wanted to cook again. He felt bad for turning her offer down, it was probably the first time he’d done so since they began their routine, but there was too much work to do.  
  
Many members of the crew were prompt. Those who weren’t on duty waited patiently in the hall up to an hour beforehand. The mess hall wasn’t technically large enough for the entire crew to fit, at least not mingling. The disorder also made it more difficult for Chakotay to gauge who had yet to arrive.  
  
Neelix had taken it upon himself to assist with the count. He also decided to take the opportunity to have people try the latest of his experiments; Aldevian hot coco. To the Talaxian’s credit, the drink wasn’t half bad.  
  
“We’re still missing the Beta shift in Engineering and from the Bridge, Seven, Samantha and Naomi, though Sam said they’d be here right on time, and Jenny Delaney,” Neelix reported.  
  
“Thanks, Neelix.” Despite his report Chakotay still attempted a mental head count, glancing over the crew trying to figure out if anyone else was missing.  
  
“Where do we want everyone to stand?” the Doctor asked holding his holocamera up with a broad grin.  
  
“By the kitchen,” Neelix blurted.  
  
B’Elanna scoffed earning an almost sad frown from the Talaxian.  
  
“No way,” Tom argued. “By the windows, there’s more room and a much better view.”  
  
“The window shows little of Voyager, I believe we should take the photo facing away from the wall,” Tuvok attempted motioning to the doors to the left of the kitchen.  
  
Chakotay nodded in agreement. “Tuvok’s right, Voyager needs to be part of the shot, sorry Tom.”  
  
“Then we can take it in front of the kitchen,” Neelix piped up again.  
  
Chakotay didn’t care that much about the where, at the moment. All he wanted to do was make sure the entire crew was in the shot and that everything was done and dusted before the ship fell apart.  
  
“The wall,” he told them. He motioned to the left wall as Tuvok had done. Neelix and Tom both grumbled at that, but Tuvok gave an appreciative nod.  
  
The moment the others peeled off to organise their groups for the photo Chakotay turned to Tuvok. “Thank you.”  
  
“Perhaps it is I who should thank you?” Tuvok responded with a quirked brow.  
  
Chakotay gave a small laugh, not quite sure what to say.  
  
“This is a superior gift idea,” Tuvok added.  
  
Chakotay blinked in surprise. “Was that a compliment?”  
  
The Vulcan paused as though considering his answer. “Do not get used to it.”  
  
The doors hissed open admitting the first of the crew members on duty, all of whom were immediately ushered to their spots by their department heads. The rest drifted in slowly, far slower than Chakotay had anticipated. He was almost tempted to have Harry beam the rest to the mess hall so they could get this done.  
  
Eventually the stragglers made their way in the door; all were immediately placed into their positions.  
  
Despite some complaints about who was sitting where and what pose everyone should strike, all with a glass raised it was eventually decided, they were finally ready to take the holoimage.  
  
They had also fallen thirty minutes behind schedule and each member of the senior-staff had passed at least one nervous glance at the telemetry from the bridge or engineering.  
  
Finally the Doctor set up the shot and placed the camera on a timer, before rushing back to sit next to Naomi, in the front.  
  
The camera’s display counted down, three, two –  
  
_“Janeway to Chakotay,”_ the voice broke in just as the camera took the photo.  
  
Half the crew just about jumped out of their skin, Chakotay included. Everyone began to mutter about how nervous they were, or sniggered like children until Tom and Harry began waving them all to silence.  
  
“Chakotay here, Captain,” Chakotay responded once the room quieted. He felt awkward talking in front of the entire crew, especially to Kathryn.  
  
_“We’ve slowed to impulse, is everything alright?”_  
  
Amusingly Chakotay hadn’t been on duty, though she’d likely searched to see where he was and noting that he was still up, she probably assumed he had knowledge of the ship’s situation.  
  
“There’s just some debris in the area, we’ve slowed to avoid unnecessary collisions,” he answered. He cringed at his answer after B’Elanna, Tom and Harry gave a collectively dissatisfied grimace.  
  
There was a pause and for a moment Chakotay thought they might be caught. He could swear the entire crew held their breaths as they waited for her response.  
  
_“Alright, let me know if I’m needed on the bridge,”_ she finally replied.  
  
Trying not to actually breathe a sigh of relief, Chakotay found himself nodding. “Will do, Captain.”  
  
“Good night, Chakotay.”  
  
_“Sleep well, Captain.”_  
  
After he closed the channel the entire crew alternated between sighing in relief, laughing nervously and commenting on the Captain’s timing.  
  
“We don’t have long, let’s take the picture,” Chakotay attempted.  
  
A few people quieted, prompting others to follow their example.  
  
Eventually they got their picture and Voyager didn’t even take a scratch.  
  



	21. December 21st – Pumpkin and Ricotta Gnocchi, well, almost –

“I’m sorry,” Kathryn apologised. Once again her replicator had let her down.  
  
“Don’t be sorry, Kathryn, it’s… fine,” Chakotay responded. Somehow, despite the rock hard gnocchi, he was smiling and had actually managed to get through a good portion of his plate.  
  
“Please don’t eat it,” she implored. She felt truly terrible. She’d hoped to make up for their last few dinners and had made a mess of things, yet again.  
  
“Kathryn, it’s not that bad,” he maintained. Counter to his comment he attempted to skewer a piece onto his fork, but tough as it was it shot from his plate, hitting the vase in the centre of the table.  
  
“I swear to you, it’s this replicator, damn thing has it out for me,” she told him.  
  
This time, rather than trying to comfort her, he chuckled lightly.  
  
“Honestly! My replicator back home would do what it was told. This,” she motioned to the plate, “is one of my best recipes.”  
  
His grin intensified, she could tell he didn’t believe her.  
  
“When we get home I will make this for you again.”  
  
“Is that a threat?” he snorted as he spoke, barely able to complete the question.  
  
She glared at him, mocking offense, and took a sip of her drink. “At least the wine is good.”  
  
Chakotay chuckled lightly before nodding and taking his own glass from the table.  
  
For a moment Kathryn forgot the reason for her recent bad mood. She forgot that the crew had planned a Christmas party that would inevitably remind her with full force of everything she would never have out here. She forgot it all and she enjoyed Chakotay’s warm smile, his easy laugh and his unerring companionship.  
  
But, like so often happened during their time together when she remembered it crashed down like a shuttle without inertial dampeners hitting earth.  
  
She placed her glass back on the table, trying not to allow her upset to show. She failed miserably and watched Chakotay’s jocular countenance fall to one of mild irritation, sadness and acceptance. They’d played this game so often that he didn’t seem in the least surprised by her sudden reticence to enjoy their comradery.  
  
“Four failed dinners in a month,” she commented trying to keep the mood light. “That might be a new record for us.” Her voice wavered as she spoke, spoiling her attempts to bring a genuine smile back to his lips.  
  
“That’s ok, Kathryn,” he folded his napkin and placed it beside his plate, a sign that he was ready to leave. “I have to finish next month’s roster anyway.”  
  
She wanted to stop him. She wanted to apologise, to asking him to stay or even offer to help, but he made his exit swiftly, after a half-hearted goodnight.  
  
Her eyes remained fixed on the door a short while after his departure.  
  
She wanted to kick herself. He was almost all she had out here. Soon, with the way she was going, she wouldn’t even have him.


	22. December 22nd – Candy Canes –

Neelix rushed to the window, holding up various decorations to test them against the backdrop. He wanted Christmas to be perfect. He only had tonight for decorating, tomorrow Ensign Kim and Lieutenant Paris had plans to install holographic emitters in the hall. He also needed tomorrow to cook.  
  
The door hissed open and he glanced back to see Naomi, clutching her Flotter doll. She moved to and sat down at the couches, watching him carefully. Naomi would often spend her time here, while her mother was on duty.  
  
“How are you, Naomi?” he asked as he weighed a length of gold ribbon against a sheet of deep blue, filmy cloth. The colours worked well together, but he wasn’t entirely too sure how Christmassy they were.  
  
“Hungry,” the young girl responded.  
  
He glanced back with a grin. “Weren’t you and your mother just in here for dinner?” he questioned sceptically.  
  
She giggled and held her doll in front of her face, as though to cover her amusement.  
  
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he turned and placed the decorations in hand, on the couches nearest him. “I might have something small you can have.”  
  
Her face lit into a brilliant grin and she hopped off the couch, following him to the kitchen.  
  
He’d replicated a large number of small snacks for the festivities already, so he had plenty on hand. He glanced around at the various treats on offer and picked the red and white stick from among the bunch. “This is a candy cane,” he told her. “Ensign Kim requested them. They’re mint flavoured.” He tried not to grimace, so as not to put her off, but mint and Talaxians did not mix.  
  
She took it hesitantly and pulled the plastic wrap off the end, sniffing it curiously. With a shrug she attempted to bite the end, breaking a piece off.  
  
Neelix cringed at the sound her teeth made against the hard candy, but she didn’t seem to mind, nor did she seem opposed to the flavour.  
  
She smiled again. “Thank you, Neelix!”  
  
“You’re very welcome, Naomi.”  
  
His eyes flicked back to the windows of their own accord as he weighed up the colours from a distance.  
  
“I think the green and red curtains and then you could tie the gold ribbon into bows,” Naomi suggested offhandedly.  
  
He grinned at her taste. Green and red seemed a rather garish mixture. That being said, many of the standard decorations listed in the database, and some that had been hung in the corridors, used the colour combination. Perhaps there was a tradition behind the choice that he hadn’t discovered in his research?  
  
He glanced at the holly he’d replicated. “Green and red,” he muttered.  
  
“I like it,” Naomi said brightly.  
  
“Green and red,” he repeated more to himself. Well, he’d certainly seen worse. 


	23. December 23rd – Cherry Tarts –

Icheb waited patiently as Seven’s regeneration cycle completed.  
  
She stepped down from her alcove, before glancing in his direction. Her eyes moved to the tray in his hands and to the six cherry tarts perched atop it. “That does not appear to be nutritional supplement sixteen.” Despite the seriousness of her demeanour, her tone was light and he noted the corners of her lips turned up.  
  
“No,” he agreed. “It does not.”  
  
She gave a small and uncharacteristic smile, allaying his fear that he may have overstepped his bounds.  
  
“They are cherry tarts,” he told her, offering the tray. “They are your Secret Santa.”  
  
“I –” she seemed about to turn the gift down, but her eyes flicked to the tray once again, then to Icheb. “Thank you.”  
  
“You are welcome. I hope they are as pleasant as your mother’s.”  
  
Carefully she took one from the tray and ate a small bite. At first Icheb thought she was not pleased, until her eyes closed and her shoulders sagged as though she’d fallen into a distant memory. Her bites of the pastry were slow, seemingly borne of a desire to savour every piece.  
  
He knew she seldom ate outside the Doctor’s recommended nutritional supplements, but when she did, she certainly seemed to enjoy it.  
  
“This is a wonderful gift,” she told him once she finished the bite. “Thank you, Icheb.”  
  
Unsure what more he could say, Icheb merely bowed his head and left her to her gift.

***=/\=***

“Seven, I – wasn’t expecting you,” the Doctor’s voice softened as he greeted her. A curious abnormality in his programming, she had discovered.  
  
He motioned to the stool beside the first bio-bed. “Please, take a seat. What’s the problem?”  
  
His assumption that she had come to report a medical issue was not unfounded. Seven seldom visited so late and commonly only if her health or the health of another crew member was threatened. This time, however, her visit was social.  
  
She smiled as she had been previously instructed, to indicate that her visit was of a friendly nature. “I am not here for medical assistance,” she remained where she was; though the Doctor’s eyes darted to the seat she’d been offered. “I have come to give you your Secret Santa.”  
  
His face lit into a pleasant grin.  
  
She proceeded past him to the main sickbay console.  
  
“You’re my Secret Santa?” He asked.  
  
“Lieutenant Carey was not easily amenable to trading your name. I managed to persuade him.” She wasn’t certain on the etiquette of telling ones Secret Santa your identity, but Icheb had done so and this was not a gift she could pass on without revealing herself.  
  
“You traded for my name?” his voice wavered as though ashamed or perhaps touched. Seven still wasn’t quite certain on the eccentricities of volume changes in speech. At times she was perplexed that the engineers responsible for the Doctor’s programming had bothered to include something so mundane. At other times, however, she found his personality and those particular intricate details a comfort; this time in particular, given the nature of her gift.  
  
“I have formulated a way to enhance your vocal range without compromising program data,” she began to upload her subroutine to the main computer, though she would not load it to his program without his consent.  
  
He stared, perplexed. “Seven, that’s a wonderful gift,” he gasped. He moved up to her side, peering at her work.  
  
“It was not difficult,” she commented. “When you announced your desire to enhance your programming during our encounter with the Qomar I began attempting to find a way to do so.”  
  
“That was six months ago.”  
  
She paused and glanced up at him. “I regret that I was not able to find a solution sooner.”  
  
His countenance changed and once again, due to her ignorance of the nuances of facial expressions, she couldn’t quite tell whether he was shocked, elated or irritated. Perhaps he was all three?  
  
“I can apply the programming, if you wish?” she posed.  
  
He glanced at the console, then back to her. “Yes, please, thank you,” he answered softly.  
  
She gave another smile and proceeded to work.  
  
“Thank you, Seven,” he reiterated.  
  
“You are welcome, Doctor.”


	24. December 24th – A Christmas Feast –

B’Elanna glanced up as the doors opened, admitting the Captain and Chakotay.  
  
Her eyes flicked to the other side of the room, where Tom stood talking to Neelix. His gaze met hers and he gave a smirk and a nod.  
  
Now that the pair were here she could activate the program they’d set up. The idea had been Harry’s. They had already decided to have a sprig of mistletoe appear in random locations around the room, so Harry’s addition, that it should target their command crew was only a small line of code away.  
  
The Captain was astute though. B’Elanna knew all too well that if the thing just kept appearing above them, the Captain would figure out what was happening rather quickly. Instead she’d set it to target them every three to five appearances.  
  
The crew would also play along, encouraging them to finally admit their attraction; with obnoxious cheering of course.  
  
In all honesty B’Elanna wasn’t holding her breath for anything to happen. She still had her rations placed on: ‘after the first couple aboard marries’. Weddings got to a lot of people, especially people as ‘parental’ as the Captain and Chakotay. But Harry seemed to have great faith in the plan. He’d even changed his bet to tonight.  
  
B’Elanna slipped into the kitchen, retrieving the PADD Neelix had stashed for her. Tapping the command to interface with the holoprojectors, she accessed the program and added the new subroutine. The mistletoe immediately vanished, reappearing over Mike Ayala, who gave Jenny Delaney a shy grin.  
  
She was certain they were going to figure it out and toss her out the nearest airlock. Of course, if _that_ didn’t push them over the edge, Tom’s _next_ surprise surely would.

***=/\=***

Neelix had been making the rounds since the celebration had begun, ensuring that everyone was having a good time. He took his title as morale officer rather seriously, the crew needed him to.  
  
There were occasions, however, when a member of the crew would stand to the side during a celebration like this one. His eyes scanned the area for the culprit and saw him near the kitchen, watching with his usual stoic expression.  
  
Under Tuvok’s tough Vulcan exterior Neelix was certain the man was as fun loving as the rest of the crew. He knew that, with not too much prompting, he could get the man to open up and have a good time.  
  
He approached, placing his most charismatic grin on his face. “How are you this evening, Mr Tuvok?”  
  
The Vulcan raised a brow, obviously not expecting the company.  
  
“I am well. And you?” Neelix had no idea how to read Tuvok’s mood, still. Mostly he made his best guess. This time, he discerned, that Tuvok sounded – content.  
  
“Well, I’m wonderful,” he responded in a casually jocular tone. “I was hoping you might like to lead a round of Christmas carols?”  
  
The Vulcan glanced at him, obviously surprised by the request. “I think not,” he responded flatly.  
  
“Of course you do!” Neelix insisted. He’d already sent the lyrics and music out with this morning’s ‘A Briefing with Neelix’, so he knew they crew would all know the words to the songs.  
  
He drew a deep breath and raised his hands. “Deck the halls with boughs of holly –” he began, nudging the Vulcan in the side.  
  
He continued singing, hearing couple of voices in the crowd, though a good many of the crew glanced in the opposite direction, obviously shy.  
  
Increasing his volume he moved around attempting to bring others in on the song. “Tis the season to be jolly.” This time a few more people joined in, he heard the next line echoed through the room.  
  
Tuvok, however, remained close-lipped.  
  
But surely plenty other members of the crew would be willing to join in.  
  
A voice behind him overpowered his own, and those around him. Neelix started and glanced around to see the Doctor bellowing the lyrics at the top of his holographic lungs.  
  
After he began to sing a good many more members of the crew joined them. Neelix was happy they were participating, but – well, couldn’t they have joined in while _he_ was leading?

***=/\=***

Chakotay moved away from Kathryn’s side to grab some drinks, hoping that, if they had drinks in hand no one would expect them to sing.  
  
He glanced back to Kathryn, indicating the punch with a questioning grin. She gave a half smile and then jumped, glancing up as the mistletoe appeared above her. Her reaction was worth all the dilithium in the quadrant. She blinked in surprise before her expression turned to horror and shock. She danced backwards, eyes searching the area as though trying to make sure no one witnessed her response.  
  
Chakotay stifled a chuckle and returned his attention to the bowl, hoping she hadn’t noticed that he’d been watching. He almost wished that he’d been standing with her when the mistletoe had appeared. Not that he expected anything to happen. They’d probably just stare at each other, embarrassed for a moment and then glance away as though nothing had happened. He could dream, though.  
  
She certainly seemed to be in a better mood than he’d expected. So there was _that_ , he guessed. That being said she seemed to be rebelling against the festivities in her own way. She’d worn a sun dress, the white one with the large tropical flowers that she used to wear to the luau program, long ago. It seemed like her own stubborn way of refusing to acknowledge the celebration was Christmas. Everyone else had appeared sporting winter clothes, though Voyager’s temperature hadn’t been lowered.  
  
He poured their drinks and glanced back to the kitchen area. Neelix caught his eye and gave a nod as the latest song came to a close.  
  
The nod, he knew, was an indication that they wanted to give their gifts now. The crew had decided, however, to present the captain with hers first, to kick things off.  
  
Chakotay responded to the gesture with a grin and hurried back to her side.  
  
She took the drink with a grateful smile and took a sip.  
  
“This has been spiked,” she whispered, staring fixedly at the drink.  
  
He glanced at his own with a frown, ready to offer to get her something else, until she took a long gulp.  
  
She met his eyes, brow raised as though in challenge. “What? This tastes like _actual_ alcohol,” she told him. “I’m hardly going to let that go to waste.”  
  
He sniffed a laugh and raised his own cup. “To real alcohol, then,” he took a sip and tasted the spirituous aftertaste. “Who knows how much more is aboard,” he added with a faux forlorn sigh.  
  
Kathryn gave another grin and returned her attention to the crew as another song rang out through the room, the Doctor leading the number: Old King Wenceslas.  
  
Chakotay watched as Neelix made his way to the hologram’s side, whispering in his ear. They would present the gifts after the song, he surmised. He honestly couldn’t wait to give Kathryn her gift; she was going to love it.  
  
“Should we mingle?” he suggested, motioning to the room at large.  
  
Kathryn nodded and took his arm, leading him to a group of crewmen who had taken residence on the couches. She glanced behind them and shook her head.  
  
“What’s wrong?” he questioned quietly.  
  
“The holographic mistletoe is following us,” she replied in a whisper.  
  
He glanced back and sure enough the thing had reappeared where they’d just been standing.  
  
“That’s the third time it’s appeared over where we’ve been standing,” she clarified. Her eyes began to search the room.  
  
“They wouldn’t dare,” he muttered, more to himself than to Kathryn.  
  
She’d fixed on her target. Chakotay followed her gaze to B’Elanna, who stared like a child caught replicating candy; then ducked away.  
  
“I guess they would,” Kathryn commented. He couldn’t tell, but he could swear she was more amused than upset about the program. Not that he expected anything to happen. Not on Voyager.

***=/\=***

Kathryn had worked out the little trick with the mistletoe after the thing had appeared above her when Chakotay had moved away to get their drinks. Whoever had set it up, B’Elanna she guessed, from the Engineer’s reaction, hadn’t been overly subtle about it. Given that the thing moved about every five minutes and had appeared above her three times now she couldn’t help but become suspicious. She might have believed it a natural part of the programming if it had appeared every ten or twenty minutes.  
  
B’Elanna was a romantic. She’d not been oblivious to the attraction between Kathryn and Chakotay. Kathryn doubted there was anyone on the ship who hadn’t picked up on it by now. Their chemistry was undeniable. But Kathryn wasn’t about to give into temptation because of some silly little prank.  
  
They joined a group of crewmen, listening into their chat about a joke Swinn was telling about their last away mission. But Neelix interrupted the discussion, tapping his glass with a spoon to draw everyone’s attention his way.  
  
Chakotay glanced back to her with a smile then moved to Neelix’s side, by the kitchen.  
  
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s now time to present the Secret Santa gifts,” Neelix announced. “Starting of course, with our wonderful Captain.”  
  
Kathryn drew a deep breath, feeling every eye in the room fall on her. “Commander Chakotay was lucky enough to draw your name,” Neelix continued. “But this gift is from everyone.”  
  
She stood anxious, yet excited to see what he and the crew had possibly acquired for her.  
  
Chakotay moved into the kitchen and returned holding a canvas, covered by a sheet of cloth, before returning to her side to present it.  
  
“Merry Christmas, Kathryn,” he whispered.  
  
She took the gift almost tentatively, giving him a small, curious smile before carefully removing the wrapping. Never in her life had she beheld a more beautiful image; her entire crew stood with glasses raised, in the mess hall. A photo, printed to canvas, and probably the greatest gift anyone had ever given her.  
  
She placed a hand over her mouth in a vain attempt to hide her reaction, though her eyes had begun to cloud with tears.  
  
Before this moment Kathryn had always maintained that the Voyager crew were a family. That belief held firm with everything they’d been through together; though she’d held a niggling doubt for some time that their familial connection was, in a way, begrudged by some. But seeing the genuine smiles on the faces of her crew certainly seemed to shed a whole new light on her misgivings.  
  
She’d spent the past few weeks miserable and moody for some selfish desire to be home, to celebrate Christmas with her family and the man she loved. She’d given so little thought to the fact that, in a way, she was home, with her family – and the man she loved.  
  
After she managed to gain control of her reaction she moved her hand to her heart. “It’s wonderful,” she managed, barely audible. “Thank you.”  
  
Before she could speak further Tom Paris approached, carrying a second canvas. “We actually took a holoimage just before this one,” he indicated her picture. “But we were interrupted.” He turned the canvas around to show a rather comical version of the first picture. With the exception of Tuvok and Seven, who stood staring at the camera, the rest of the crew were in a shambles.  
  
Faces were contorted in shock, glasses of wine were spilled on sleeves and crew members were staring wide-eyed at one another and the room. The image was as beautiful as the first she’d been given, though for a vastly different reason. She couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the scene.  
  
“When did you take these?” She finally managed.  
  
Tom glanced up at Chakotay, as though offering for him to answer.  
  
“A couple of days ago, remember when you contacted me about Voyager slowing to impulse?”  
  
Kathryn remembered. She had a mild panic attack as she ran the conversation through her mind again, making sure she hadn’t said anything inappropriate. Not that she said inappropriate things to Chakotay often, of course.  
  
To her recollection the conversation had been brief, he’d merely updated that they were passing through a debris field and had to slow to impulse.  
  
“They’re wonderful,” she spoke finally. “Thank you all.”  
  
A light cheer passed through the room before Neelix finally announced in a loud voice that it was time to hand out the rest of the gifts.  
  
Kathryn, like most of the crew, had delivered her gift earlier that day. Neelix played Santa, taking a large sack which held a large portion of the gifts within, presumably those that didn’t seem breakable. Her gift paled in comparison to these, so when Neelix handed Chakotay his small, neatly wrapped gift, Kathryn had to resist the urge to snatch it from his hands and run away with it.  
  
A squeal from nearby the doorway shocked them both, and half the room, into gazing in its direction. Kathryn spotted Naomi near the couches, she’d unwrapped her gift, a plush Treevis toy with lights, like a Christmas tree. Kathryn sniffed a laugh, a Christmas Treevis.  
  
Chakotay exchanged a grin with Kathryn before returning his focus to his gift.  
  
Ludicrous though her body’s reaction seemed, her stomach tied in knots as she watched Chakotay remove the gift wrap. He gave a huff as he took the small polished, pearlescent Story Stone from the box she’d replicated for it. She couldn’t tell by the reaction whether he was happy or irritated, until he gave a light, impressed smile.  
  
“How did you manage to get the Tinosi to trade this?” he gasped.  
  
She cleared her throat. “How did you know it was me?”  
  
His grin broadened and he fixed her with a frank expression. “I don’t think anyone else knows me this well.”  
  
Her heart seemed to swell with that. She’d chosen well, and after the gift he’d given her, that was important.  
  
“They were difficult to bargain down,” she admitted. She didn’t want to tell him exactly what she’d had to trade away for it; her entire book collection. She didn’t want him to feel guilty in the slightest. In all likelihood he’d figure that out for himself anyway, sooner or later. “But it was worth it,” she added. And it was.  
  
He held the stone almost reverently. “I don’t suppose they gave you an instruction manual?”  
  
Kathryn smiled broadly, thoroughly relieved that he enjoyed the gift. “They showed me how to work it. I’ll show you after the party.”  
  
“Thank you, Kathryn,” he said finally. “This was the perfect gift.”  
  
She snorted a laugh, indicating the two canvases she still held. “It’s not even a patch on these.”  
  
His smile softened to the heart-melting expression he gave at times. The one that made her seriously question her life choices on Voyager.  
  
Before she made a mistake, she motioned to the canvases again. “Help me take these to my quarters and then we can come back?” Kathryn requested.  
  
“You’re enjoying yourself then?” he responded happily.  
  
She smiled. “As you said I would.”

***=/\=***

Tom withdrew to give the Captain and Commander their moment, also that damn mistletoe was probably about to reappear above their heads any moment now.  
  
He was thoroughly distracted and hadn’t noticed B’Elanna approach, a package in hand. “Your Secret Santa?” he prompted.  
  
She snorted a laugh and held the gift out to him. “ _Your_ Secret Santa.”  
  
Intrigued and enthusiastic he took the gift and ripped open the packaging, staring, transfixed at the small replica of the Delta Flyer.  
  
“Is this what I think it is?” he gasped.  
  
B’Elanna gave a sly grin. “If course it is.”  
  
He pulled her into a tight hug. “This is the best gift ever!” He wasn’t over exaggerating, not even a little. Nothing he’d received in his life would quite compare to a miniature working model of the shuttle he’d designed with the woman he loved.  
  
He pulled the Flyer and the PADD she’d wrapped in with it out of its packaging and set it on the nearest table.  
  
She glanced over his shoulder at the PADD. “That button to activate,” she pointed.  
  
Following her instruction, he tapped the button he watched as the nacelles lit up and the small craft lifted off the table. A piloting screen appeared on the device allowing him to manoeuvre the vessel. He chuckled happily as he flew the small Flyer around the room, attracting the attention of most everyone present.  
  
There were cheers and enthusiastic comments, mostly wondering whether they might be able to persuade B’Elanna to make them one, as well.  
  
Tom ignored them though, enjoying his incredible gift.  
  
B’Elanna watched him, obviously pleased with herself, as well she should be.  
  
He couldn’t very well play with his new toy through the rest of the party, though. So he returned the vessel to the table and executed a marvellous landing, earning a cheer from their onlookers.  
  
“I think we need to give out the final gift, don’t you?” B’Elanna nodded to the corner where Naomi was currently showing her Treevis doll off to Harry, Neelix and her mother.  
  
Tom nodded, placing the craft back the in its packaging so as not to damage it. Then, despite how much trouble he was going to get into for this he picked up a glass and spoon and tapped it, gaining everyone’s attention.  
  
“I have one more gift to give my Secret Santa,” he announced. “Who has never before seen snow.”  
  
Out of the corner of his eye Tom saw Tuvok take a step forward, but he was too late. B’Elanna ran the program which altered the environmental controls. Snow began to fall from the miniscule holes in the roof, designed for ventilation. The effect was rather magical and more than one person gasped delightedly.  
  
Naomi bounced up and ran to the centre of the room, eyes fixed on the beautiful white flakes as they fell to the floor. She was mesmerised.  
  
“Lieutenant Paris,” Tuvok snapped.  
  
“Ok, B’Elanna, that’s probably enough,” he hissed.  
  
She tapped the PADD in her hands. “Uh oh.”  
  
“Uh oh? What do you mean Uh oh?”  
  
“I – there’s a problem,” she grimaced. “Two problems:” she amended. “It’s snowing on decks one through six, and I can’t get it to stop,” B’Elanna murmured in response.  
  
“Are you telling me it’s snowing on the bridge?” he questioned through gritted teeth.  
  
She gave an irritated shrug and turned away, tapping determinedly at her PADD and leaving Tom to face Tuvok’s wrath alone.  
  
“Oh, the Captain’s going to love this.”  
  
“Mr Paris, shut this off, immediately.”  
  
He threw his hands up in a placating gesture.  
  
“Ah –” Tom responded awkwardly. His eyes flicked to B’Elanna who said something rather untoward in Klingon, her fingers slamming into the display to show her irritation.  
  
“We’re working on it,” Tom agreed with an easy smile.  
  
Tuvok was not amused.

***=/\=***

Exiting onto deck three, Kathryn and Chakotay made their way back to her quarters, both transfixed by their gifts. Her eyes continually flicked to the canvases and each time she seemed to pick up something new. They were marvellous.  
  
Despite the incredible thought Chakotay had put into the gift, he still seemed to enjoy what he’d been given. It seemed rather insignificant though. A stone that read stories from an ancient civilisation was interesting, but probably not quite a personable as she should have made.  
  
She wanted to kick herself. He’d have much preferred something that she’d crafted herself. Something with more thought that this.  
  
“Honestly, what did you trade for this?” He questioned again.  
  
She frowned at the stone, still dissatisfied with her choice. “Only what it was worth,” she answered cryptically.  
  
His brow furrowed quizzically. “So when we get to your quarters, am I going to find them empty?”  
  
She gave a short laugh and shook her head. “You _have_ been there since we left the Tinosi, remember.”  
  
Only one or two of her books had held any real value, the rest had been nothing more than sentimental keepsakes that she would probably be better without. If she really wanted to read Chaucer, or Dante’s Inferno, or Gulliver’s Travels again they were all on the main computer, a PADD away.  
  
Her books were normally in her bedroom, so there was no fear of him picking up their absence when they entered her quarters.  
  
They paused at her door and she rested the canvases against the wall to input her door code.  
  
“What the hell!” Chakotay growled.  
  
Kathryn glanced up; shocked by his exclamation. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, an irritated glare fixed on his face. It didn’t take her long to spot the subject of his irritation, or more accurately, objects. Snow. It was snowing.  
  
Funny enough this wasn’t a first for Voyager. Environmental controls could do some strange things. This time however, she suspected, the snow was no accident.  
  
She should have been angry. She should have been trying to find out who caused this; Tom Paris, and making him stop. From the look on Chakotay’s face that’s certainly what _he_ expected her to do. Instead, Kathryn laughed.  
  
To say that Chakotay looked worried would probably qualify as an understatement. How was he to know, after all, that this had always been her vision of Christmas? Ok, well not exactly her vision of Christmas. This wasn’t Earth and the snow was artificially created.  
  
To relax him, Kathryn placed her hand over Chakotay’s heart. He met her eyes, obviously not sure what to expect. His features softened to a smile after only a moment, when he must have realised that she hadn’t actually cracked under the pressure.  
  
She hadn’t intended to do anything more than reassure him of her sanity. But he took her hand gently in his, thumb caressing the back of her knuckles lightly. His comforting gaze warmed her, refreshing the image that had played through her mind for the past month of sharing an intimate kiss under new snow fall.  
  
She wanted to pull away, to put her paintings inside her quarters and re-join the celebration in the mess hall. At the very least she knew she should pull back, but her legs seemed frozen as the flakes that fell about them.  
  
Her heart fluttered, causing her to feel weightless and heavy at the same time. She hadn’t felt that sensation since – well, their dinner before Voyager’s failed slipstream flight. Back then the only thing that had stopped her from throwing herself at him had been a hard-grit will and the misguided thought that they would be home the next day; that they had all the time in the world.  
  
She waited for some calamity, some devastating catastrophic event that would pull them both back to the real world. But nothing happened.  
  
She’d moved toward him, or had he moved toward her? She couldn’t be sure. Either way they stood inches apart. Eyes locked, fingers delicately caressing each other’s hand.  
  
How long had she pined for him? How long had she dreamt of a moment like this? No interruptions, no life or death situation, it was just the two of them, alone in the snow.  
  
Their fingers laced together. Kathryn couldn’t be sure whether the move had been hers, or a mutual decision. Regardless, their hands locked in place, made their next move inevitable.  
  
His scent overwhelmed her as they closed the gap between them; lips touching for the very first time in what had to be the most sensuous and loving kiss Kathryn had ever experienced. His supple lips pressed firm to hers, tongue exploring as carefully and passionately as she’d ever imagined.  
  
She had no idea how long they held each other. It felt as though no time had passed all, certainly not enough time. But when they pulled back they found that the snow had stopped and the carpet surrounding them, and their clothes were sodden.  
  
A nervous inquisitiveness passed his expression and she knew immediately what he was thinking. Was this just a kiss or was it something more?  
  
They’d shattered the wall that had kept them away from one another, for Kathryn there was no going back.  
  
She wanted to make sure that he knew she wasn’t walking away, not now, not ever again. Cupping his cheek with her free hand, she traced the lines of his tattoo and pulled him close for another shorter kiss, though no less passionate.  
  
“We’ll have dinner tomorrow night,” she told him.  
  
He appeared taken aback, perhaps hoping that things might progress tonight. But they had a party to get back to. She’d promised after all.  
  
After a moment he gave a nod. “Your place or mine?”  
  
“Mine,” she answered. “But you can bring the food this time.”  
  
She rolled her eyes at his relieved sigh and the returned to the reason they’d come here; to hang the paintings – and probably freshen up.


	25. December 25th – Mushroom, Thyme and Lentil Pies, well, maybe –

Christmas was, to no one’s surprise, rather an eventful day.  
  
Two small raiders attacked, claiming that Voyager had stolen their technology. Though they weren’t incredibly powerful on their own they called friends to join them. Voyager had to flee or risk taking serious damage. During their flight they ran aground, so to speak, on some kind of gravitational rift.  
  
Three hours of wading finally saw them free, though Kathryn had had just about enough of the day.  
  
She’d almost forgotten about dinner, though she was blessed with a pleasant reminder every time she saw Chakotay. His smile helped her keep her wits and her strength and she finally managed to make it to the end of her shift.  
  
With no more incidents reported she handed the bridge over to Tuvok and requested that he not disturb her _or_ the Commander unless there was a real emergency.  
  
She expected an unimpressed frown or a cocked brow, or at the very least a knowing grunt. Instead he merely inclined his head and told her to have a pleasant evening.  
  
Before Chakotay arrived Kathryn scrambled to get ready. She didn’t want to dine in her uniform this time. She wanted him to know that there were no ranks tonight and hopefully, off duty, there wouldn’t be again.  
  
She selected for herself a full length blue dress, made from Andorian silk. The azure colour brought out her eyes rather well and this was one of the few articles of clothing she owned, that he’d never seen her in. She planned to introduce him to at least one more tonight.  
  
Her door chimed at eighteen thirty on the dot.  
  
A nervous roiling bubbled in her gut as she smoothed her dress out and called for the doors to open.  
  
Chakotay had also decided to dress more casually. He wore a pair of dark suit pants and a pressed white shirt that accentuated his physique rather nicely.  
  
His wonderful dimpled smile put her instantly at ease and made her wonder what she’d ever been worried about. Chakotay was her closest friend, being with him was the easiest part of every day and beginning a relationship with him felt as natural as their kiss had, yesterday.  
  
There was only one problem with his appearance. He’d come empty handed.  
  
She gave a curious smile. “I seem to recall your relief when I asked you to bring the dinner,” she commented casually. Her stomach grumbled at the mere mention of Chakotay’s cooking.  
  
“I know I agreed to that,” he responded with a sly grin. “But I thought we may like to have them a bit later, them being mushroom, thyme and lentil pies,” he added with a look to her replicator.  
  
“You didn’t,” she objected flatly.  
  
He gave a short laugh as he approached her, allowing the door to shut behind him. “I sent them to your replicator.”  
  
She closed her eyes in silent mourning for their lost meal. And she’d been so looking forward to it.  
  
“I thought, before eating, you might like to talk?” He posed.  
  
Need, was probably more accurate. He knew her very well. If this was going to work they would require steadfast rules.  
  
Before she could say a word in agreement, he took another step forward, softly placing a hand against her cheek. His touch set her heart racing and every word she’d wanted to utter fled her mind. The sensation was only trumped when his lips touched hers once again.  
  
All thoughts of food seemed insignificant, the moment his arms wrapped around her body. She breathed in his sent and revelled in his taste as her hands began to wander across his shirt.  
  
But she didn’t want to get carried away. She pulled back, holding his face in her hands, gently. There were a lot of _other_ things she wanted to say before their relationship progressed too far. Various apologies and thanks for everything she’d done to him and he’d done for her, over the years. But eventually it all boiled down to one thing.  
  
“I love you, Chakotay,” the words finally free from her lips, lifted the weight of a planet from her shoulders.  
  
His grin softened again and he closed his eyes as though allowing the words to sink in. She wasn’t at all nervous for his pause. She knew in her heart how he felt. He’d proved his affections time and again, after all.  
  
After a moment his eyes opened again, he drew her close and kissed her forehead, whispering, “I love you, too, Kathryn.”  
  
She understood why he’d closed his eyes and remained quiet. To hold the words in her mind so that she’d never forget his tone and inflection as he spoke. This was a moment she never wanted to lose.  
  
When their hunger got the better of them Chakotay finally suggested they replicate the pies and have their dinner.  
  
Kathryn couldn’t help but feel smug when Chakotay took his first bite and glared at it distastefully. “It’s burnt on the inside.”  
  
“I’ve told you a hundred times, it’s this replicator.”  
  
If nothing else had worked out so marvellously well this Christmas, at least now, she had unequivocal proof that her replicator was responsible for all of their ruined meals, not her. It was a Christmas miracle.

Merry Christmas!!


End file.
